Fiction

I got home from work at nine o’clock and decided that I would go down, through the gate, across the creek–socks mushy all of a sudden in my Adidas sneakers–and into the meadow for a walk without stopping to see anyone.

I am with my best friend, at her kitchen table, trying to tell her about a hard time I'm having.

I'm six on the living room floor -

the pink album the pink album I chant -

dad puts the Supremes on the record player, the jacket handed to me -

pink, with three of the most beautiful women I've ever seen -

I’m not sure which is worse, having my hair torn out everyday and markers drawing ‘makeup’ on my face, having a dog chew on my arm and a toddler chew on my leg.

This place held nightmares. Its beauty was extraordinary. Something straight out of a movie. The water was jet black, so that when the sun was setting you could see its orange hues reflecting on the water.

The old woman guides him past the wooden blue-coated porch. Past the tall grass and the gravel path driven beneath it.

With a little bit of luck, you can get exactly what you wished for. Charlie Reese has been wishing for the same thing ever since fourth grade.

I wrote this for a Lord of the Flies creative project for school for which a prompt was to write about what would happen if it was girls on the island instead of boys.

Chapter 1: A Reaper Guiding a Dead Soul

-Zeph-

Blood had never tasted so…sweet.

A boy sat under a hazy sun, paper airplane in hand.  Words stretched along the creases, telling of a world he wished he knew: one of a golden sun you couldn’t meet the gaze of, fields full of green grass and wildflowers, and sparkli

Only those looking were stunned silent.